Afterwards
by Tanya Reed
Summary: What if Kate died in "Tick, tick, tick..."? Several years later, Alexis thinks about what happened afterwards.


Afterwards

by Tanya Reed

This story came to me while pondering the fanfic 100 prompt "ends" after watching last weeks ep. It's a reflective piece again. It seems like that's what I've been writing mostly lately. Someday, though, I promise, I'll start writing character interactive pieces again. I'm a slave to my muse, and I have to write what she wants to write.

First off, there are a couple of warnings: spoilers for "Tick, tick, tick..." and "A Rose for Everafter"; Deathfic warning too, though not directly.

Oh, and I've noticed on the show that Alexis calls Martha both "Gram" and "Grams". I've used "Gram" for this story mostly because it sounds better when using the possessive.

Disclaimer: I do not own Castle. I'm just doing this for fun.

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Alexis Castle studied the woman across the table from her. Time had been mostly kind to her grandmother, and the only signs of Gram's real age were the faint lines on her face and the occasional weariness that came to her eyes.

"It's time, you know," Gram's voice was gentle but firm.

Alexis dropped her eyes to the table top, and her heart did a little flip in her chest.

"I don't know if I can, Gram."

Her grandmother reached across and squeezed her arm. "You're stronger than you think, kiddo."

Alexis closed her eyes briefly and bit her lip. Around her, the rest of the apartment was silent and still. Even so, he was there. She could see him laughing, outrageous, brilliant, alive...and she could see him after. Her mouth twisted as she remembered the last six years.

"It can't hurt him now," Gram continued.

Alexis took a shaky breath and nodded. She sometimes forgot how insightful her grandmother could be.

"Maybe I should just let it be."

"Then you'll be as trapped by it as he was. You know that."

Alexis felt one side of her lip quirk up in response. "We could always just move."

Despite the solemnity, Martha chuckled, and Alexis suddenly felt better. This had been her home for most of her life. She could see herself playing on its smooth wooden floors and running into his waiting arms. It meant safety and love to her. Most of all, it meant him. He would always be here.

She got to her feet, trying to ignore the way her hands trembled. She knew it was foolish to be so afraid, but it didn't make her any less so.

"Are you coming?" she asked quietly, turning back.

"No, this is something you have to do alone."

Alexis knew Gram was right. As she rose from the table, she felt a surge of gratitude and love for the older woman. Losing her father a little at a time had been hard, and it would have been so much harder if she had gone through it alone. Gram had been the glue that held everything together. Without her, Alexis would have broken apart.

As she walked towards her father's room, she felt steel and determination enter her step. Detective Beckett would not have been afraid, and she wasn't going to let herself be either.

She passed the couch he spent so much time on. For a moment, she hesitated. Her mind saw him there—quiet, listless. She remembered how guilt had destroyed him, pulling him further and further away from her until he just faded away. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of the way his face had thinned and aged. The smile that had once come so easily to him had faded with his spark, and she knew that most of his living was done inside of his head. She had tried but had never been able to break him free from the images that had taken over his mind.

Alexis trailed her fingers over the fabric before continuing to the bedroom.

As always, she entered the room expecting to see him there. Even though it had been months since he slept there, his spirit still lingered. After his death, Alexis couldn't find the heart to change things, so his belongings still lay right where he had put them. It was almost as if he had just left the room and could come back at any time.

"Hello, Daddy," she said softly, trailing her fingers over his pillow as she had the couch.

It hadn't been that long ago that she had spent every night curled up in that bed, hugging the pillow and wondering how she was supposed to live without him. Once again, Gram had saved her, pulling her out of her spiraling depression.

Now, all that Alexis felt when she walked into the room was love.

She went to the dresser and dug into the top drawer. Soon, she knew, she would have to go through his things and give most of them away. Certainly, Ryan and Esposito would want something. They had cared for her father, and they had never blamed him for what happened. Their kindness after the explosion had meant more to Alexis than she could ever tell them.

It only took her a moment to find the key. She felt a twinge of guilt as she closed her fingers around it, pressing the coldness into her palm. Her brain knew that her actions couldn't hurt him anymore, but her heart just wanted to protect him from the pain.

Shoving the feeling away, she walked purposefully to the room that had been locked for so long. She could still clearly see the look on her father's face when he locked it. It was a broken portrait of guilt and sorrow. He hadn't said anything, but that look had said it all.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as she put the key in the lock and turned it.

The door squeaked slightly as it opened. Years of neglect made it jerky and uneven. Alexis blinked and coughed at the dust it raised. Her nose wrinkled at the shut in smell.

Six years.

As her eyes cleared, she was immediately transported back in time. There was a piece of string crossing the room. Yellowed paper was attached to it with rusty clothespins. On the desk, along with at least an inch of dust, was an open laptop. Beside it were pages of looseleaf filled with her father's slanted scrawl.

She went further into the room so that she could see the shelves of Derrick Storm books and the one slim volume of Nikki Heat.

Seeing it, Alexis felt her stomach tighten. That book was what had started it all. It was behind everything—the explosion, the crushing guilt that made her father swear to never write again. No matter how many times Detective Ryan tried to tell him that killers were the only ones responsible for the deaths they created, Alexis's father could only see that his words, and the celebrity that had gone with them, had caused Detective Beckett's death. He had seen the explosion, and it haunted him. Alexis could remember being awakened in the night by her father's frantic screams of, "Kate!"

Turning away from the book, she crossed the room and opened the blinds. Sunlight filled the room for the first time in six years. It fell on all the things that made Rick Castle who he was.

"See, Dad? It's not so bad. Yes, she's here, but so am I...and even Gram." She smiled sadly at a family picture taken when she was about seven before continuing with something she had wanted to tell her father while he was alive. She hadn't been able to bring herself to say it then because she was afraid the words would cause him too much pain. "It wasn't your writing that killed her. In a strange way, I think it might have saved her."

The room didn't answer her, but Alexis still felt relieved to have finally said the words aloud.

She went over and sat in his chair. It seemed smaller than it had when she was growing up. It was worn but comfortable. She ignored the black smudges it made on her hands.

Alexis thought about what it must have been like for him, sitting here and writing. He had an amazing imagination, and his methods were a strange blend of the modern and the traditional. She reached up and plucked one of the faded pages from the line of plot. It simply said, "Nikki and duct tape. How does she escape? A handy garbage can??"

This made her smile as she remembered the day her father had asked her to duct tape him to a chair. His eyes had been excited, and she could tell his mind was whirling with possibilities.

"Are you okay?" Gram's voice pulled her from the past as she appeared at the door.

Alexis looked up into kind and compassionate eyes.

"Yes, come in, Gram. He's here. I can feel him."

Her grandmother came in hesitantly, her gaze trailing around the room much as Alexis's had done. "It's good to see sunlight in here again."

"It's like he never left." She meant this in more ways than one.

Gram nodded in understanding before asking, "Have you decided what you're going to do in here?"

She actually hadn't, not until her grandmother asked. Without thinking, knowing it was right, she answered, "I'm going to make this into my study room."

Alexis had her undergraduate degree and was starting law school in the fall. She had done one in New York because she hadn't wanted to leave her father, and she had decided on New York for the second because she wanted to stay in her own home.

As she thought ahead, she could see herself in this room. Once the dust was cleared away, she could put her own laptop on the desk and add her own personal touches. The books would stay, as would her father's awards and pictures. She also had a picture, one taken once when Detective Beckett came to visit. It was one of Alexis's favorites and deserved a place of honour in this room.

In the picture, Detective Beckett was rolling her eyes at something outrageous Alexis's father had said, and Dad himself was grinning at the reaction. Alexis had snapped the picture at just the right time, capturing their unique and amusing relationship. In a way, seeing her father that happy almost took some of the pain out of what happened later.

Alexis looked up to see what her grandmother thought. There was a soft smile on Gram's face.

"You know what, kiddo? I think he'd like that."

Alexis thought so too.

The end.


End file.
